Ethnic and Minority Cultures as Tourist Attractions

Anya Diekmann, Melanie Kay Smith, Anya Diekmann, Melanie Kay Smith

• Publisher: Channel View Publications
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781845414856
• Topic: Business
• Subtopic: Industria dell'ospitalità e del turismo
• Index: Business

This book focuses on ethnic and minority communities in urban contexts and the ways in which their cultures are represented in tourism development. It offers a multi-disciplinary approach which draws on examples and case studies of ethnic and minority communities and cultural tourism development from all around the world, including slums in India, favelas in Brazil, Chinatowns in Australia, Jewish quarters in Central and Eastern Europe, ethnic villages in China, the African district of Brussels, the gay quarter in Cape Town and a desert town in Israel. It offers a positive perspective on ethnic and minority cultures and communities at a time when social and political support is lacking in many countries. This book will be a useful resource for those studying and researching cultural and urban tourism, urban planning and development, community studies and urban and cultural geography.

Part 1: Sociocultural Developments

Introduction

This section provides an overview of some of the social and cultural issues that are pertinent to ethnic and minority communities, including the way in which they are perceived by others and the way in which they perceive themselves. Many ethnic encounters are viewed through the lens of postcolonialism, whether it is visiting an indigenous group in their homeland, a diasporic group in an urban ghetto or displaced urban dwellers in a city slum. The relationship of power is an unequal one in most cases and poverty may be an integral, even essential part of the tourist encounter. In other cases, the communities or their cultures may even be absent; in eastern European so-called Jewish quarters, for example, where many Jewish communities perished during World War II. In the case of Roma or Gypsies, the culture may be largely intangible and somewhat elusive, especially if the communities are still nomadic. Gay quarters tend to attract well-heeled, middle-class tourists who may or may not be gay, but assume that their presence will be a welcome addition to the evening economy or a cultural event. Questions of appropriation, invasion and so forth may not feature in the personal narrative of the tourist, which predominantly relates to their own quest for new and unique experiences.

The relationship between ethnic groups and tourism brings together the quest for the authentic on the part of the tourist and the rationalised and demonstrated ethnicity of the host, especially where economic gain on the latter is both paramount and sought. (Duval, 2004: 61)

The gaze upon displaced or diasporic ethnic communities in cities may be somewhat different from the often romanticised and mythologised gaze of those tourists on colonial ‘safaris’ around the(ir) former empires (e.g. as discussed by Wels, 2004). On the other hand, Graham et al. (2000) state that much of the world’s colonial (and often dissonant) heritage can be found in the centre of cities. Still, it is much harder to idealise or fossilise one’s perception of the ‘Other’ in a fast-moving, global city where multiple influences affect and alter culture, irrespective of tourism. As stated by Hall and Tucker (2004: 188), there is a need to recognise ‘the emergent nature of culture and identity, and to acknowledge and celebrate cultural hybridity and transnationalism rather than lamenting the loss of some a priori notion of cultural tradition’. Hollinshead’s (2004) work on the notion of hybridity and Thirdspace using the work of Bhabha explores this notion of new and emergent identities which can be extremely useful for conceptualising ethnic tourism and diasporic tourism (Coles & Timothy, 2004).

The construction of ethnic and minority identities is closely connected to the interpretation of the past and heritage. As stated by Tunbridge and Ashworth (1996):

The shaping of any heritage product is by definition prone to disinherit non-participating social, ethnic or regional groups, as their distinctive historical experiences may be discounted, marginalised, distorted or ignored. This, it has been argued, is an innate potentiality and a direct consequence of the selectivity built into the concept of heritage. Choice from a wide range of pasts implies that some pasts are not selected, as history is to a greater or lesser extent hijacked by one group or another for one purpose or another. (Tunbridge & Ashworth, 1996: 29)

Gathercole and Lowenthal (1994) suggest that indigenous and ethnic minorities tend to cherish their monuments and sites as being bastions of community identity, especially as they have usually been forced to relinquish their land, religion, language and autonomy under colonial rule. However, many immigrant and diasporic groups are no longer in their birthplace or homeland and may therefore have left most of their material culture behind. Many artefacts may also have been destroyed by invaders or in deliberate campaigns of ethnocide (e.g. the Nazis during World War II). Some ethnic groups also tend to value intangible heritage above tangible artefacts or built heritage.

Perceptions of Ethnic Minorities

Ruethers (2013) suggests that ethnic groups, immigrants and diaspora have often been treated as ‘boundary figures’ from the ‘borderlands’ or ‘tourist borderzones’. Some of the communities are in the unfortunate position of being labelled ‘socially undesirable’ by the majority population. This is true of the majority of immigrants, at least for the first generation, as well as for those of a different ethnic group especially when identified by skin colour. Different religious practices (e.g. Jewish or Muslim) or cultural norms (e.g. Gypsy nomadism) may also lead to marginalisation by the majority population. Although many people from these communities may choose not to self identify, their identities may be betrayed by their physiological differences (e.g. dark skin and hair), their accents or their attire. They may also be geographically concentrated within a city, for example, in slums or ghettos. However, the communities may ironically not even inhabit the quarters to which they give their name. For example, Ruethers (2013) refers to ‘Jewish spaces’ as those areas of cities which had none or very few remaining Jews and were controlled by non-Jews (e.g. Jewish quarters in central and eastern Europe). On the other hand, ‘The notion of Jewish culture without Jews may well be a deeply discomfiting one. Yet neo-Judaic activities may be useful in maintaining a space for public curiosity and discourse in the face of otherwise overwhelming cultural forgetfulness and public silence’.

Linke (2012: 296) describes how ‘propelled by variable capitalist interests, the iconicity of “shanty town” or “ghetto” is circulated as a popular commodity form throughout Europe’s metropolitan centres’. Ethnic quarters or ethnoscapes form part of the ‘imaginaries’ of tourism which are frequently based on nostalgia, romance or idealisation (Salazar, 2013). For example, Ruethers (2013: 684) states that ‘Jewish and Gypsy spaces are themed spaces, staging the past or the romanticised present. They are “out of time”, about dead Jews and the timeless Gypsy, emphasising tradition and the exotic, pre-modern Other. The spaces are separated from the places of living Jews and Gypsies’. Much of the tourist interest in ethnic quarters, slums and ghettos comes from the global popularity of ‘ghetto-style’ fashion, music or other forms of culture which have become disconnected from the living realities in which they arose. Linke (2012: 299) suggests that ‘global appropriations and enactments of the ghetto-look may be experienced as libratory by mainstream consumers of American popular culture’. ‘Selective visualisation’ of slums, ghettos or ethnic quarters can also help to conceal socio-economic inequalities (Burgold et al., 2013).

Motivations to visit ethnic quarters or ethnoscapes may be relatively simple (unlike the more complex motivations of those who visit slums or townships). Shaw et al. (2004) suggest that:

quests for knowledge and understanding of other cultures co-exist with more mundane quests for take-away food and drink. Some visitors are attracted by colourful street markets, festivals, world music and other performance art; others by bars, clubs and late-night entertainment in quasi-exotic settings. (Shaw et al., 2004: 1997)

Visitors to slums might be attracted not only by the poverty of the communities, but also by their perceived vibrancy. Burgold et al. (2013) suggest that in popular culture, imaginaries of slums highlight industry, culture, creativity and community.

One irony is that many groups are accepted and revered culturally for their music, dance or arts (e.g. Gypsy violin music and dance, Jewish Klezmer music, African-American blues or jazz), but they are still socially, economically and often politically marginalised. Mainstream societies may desire such communities to behave as human zoos or travelling circuses, but their self-perception is very different. Macleod (2013) discusses the concept of ‘cultural configuration’, which involves the intentional manipulation of culture to present only certain aspects. Hitchcock (2013) also suggests that authenticity can be a matter of choice for many communities, who can decide quite how far they adapt or even exaggerate their culture for tourists. Ethnic communities may have some control over this, for example the Gypsies who distinguish between domestic cultural practices and outward display in their musical performances (Ruether, 2013). This goes back to MacCannell’s (1976) idea of the ‘frontstage’ and ‘backstage’. However, this is all assuming that ethnic communities are autonomously empowered to make such decisions, and in the case of Jewish communities, the original inhabitants may be largely absent.

Reisinger (2013) questions the simplification of binaries like global and local and/or homogenisation and heterogenisation in the context of culture, arguing that it is more interesting to think in terms of cultural innovation, recontextualisation or fusion. This is especially relevant to ethnic communities who are rarely homogeneous and who are often not specifically local either, being immigrants, diaspora or displaced people. There may be different subgroups (e.g. there are at least three different types of Gypsy in Hungary; Jewish people may be secular, orthodox or ultra-orthodox; many people are mixed race in cosmopolitan cities). Those who are not self-identifying (and even those who are) may be fully or partially integrated into the mainstream society or aspiring to be. Such groups may not perceive or want to perceive themselves as different, special or unique. Shaw et al. (2004) stated that:

Ironically, the sign-posting of difference will produce an anodyne and relatively homogeneous culture of consumption, disconnected from the social life of the local population. In time, this will create an isolated, tourism-oriented enclave; a sharp and cruel contrast to the poverty of adjacent inner-city areas that are less appealing to the gaze of visitors. (Shaw et al., 2004: 1997)

Tourist Experiences of the Ethnic ‘Other’

Tourists are often keen to reaffirm their idealised view that the Other is not in such a bad situation. Burgold (2013: 102) stated that ‘one can for example observe that many tours tend to culturalise poverty, which then leads the tourists to trivialise the tenuous living conditions of the slum dwellers’ (‘It’s not that bad at all.’). Defining oneself as being somehow closer to the ‘Other’ (the narrative that ‘they are more similar to us than I thought’) or playing down economic, social or political problems is maybe a way of assuaging postcolonial and middle-class guilt of being richer, more privileged or even alive (e.g. when faced with life-threatening poverty or a past Holocaust). Of course, many ethnic quarters have become fairly gentrified as the inevitable consequence of urban regeneration processes and the slums which are visited by tourists are generally ‘richer’ than those that are not and would not even qualify as being zones of extreme poverty (Frenzel, 2013).

Host and guest may be indistinguishable from each other in some contexts especially in multi-ethnic cities, and Robinson (2013) even questions the usefulness of terms like host–guest where the differentiation between local resident and tourist is becoming increasingly blurred. Hannam and Roy (2013) argue that it is becoming harder to distinguish between tourism and other mobilities. This is certainly true of large multi-ethnic cities. Many tourists are trying to engage in forms of tourism which bring them closer to local residents. Russo and Qualieri-Dominguez (2013) discuss how many bohemian or creative tourists have become almost indistinguishable from local populations in destinations like Barcelona. Richards (2011) notes that today’s cultural tourist is just as likely to be in search of ‘popular’, ‘everyday’ ‘low’ or ‘street’ culture as they are likely to visit a heritage site or museum. Wolfram and Burnill (2013) suggest that the term ‘tourist’ has become quite pejorative for many people. They use the term ‘tactical tourists’ for those who somehow want to become a part of the destination and the everyday life of its people, especially those activities which take place in ‘backstage’ or fringe areas. The tourists’ desire to discover ‘authentic’ experiences in cities is becoming as strong as it is among backpackers in remote destinations. Tourists also want to help shape their own experiences in a process of so-called ‘prosumption’ or ‘co-creation’ and engage in self-development. Creative tourism is one way of providing this. Depending on how it is defined and executed, creative tourism can provide small-scale, sustainable experiences for local communities, although Richards (2013: 302) warns that ‘The use of creativity to develop tourism (also) runs the risk of strengthening the tendency towards colonization of the lifeworld by the forces of commerce’.

Robinson (2013) observes that some tourists may experience angst if they are forced to go beyond the ‘script’, but for others, it can be extremely liberating especially in terms of cross-cultural encounters and spontaneous intercultural dialogue. The problem is that most tourist experiences are heavily mediated. Tourists are rarely conscious of their own ‘performances’ in tourism, which are usually foregrounded by historical, social and cultural education or even indoctrination, as well as media representations and images (Meethan, 2013). Salazar (2013) emphasises tourists’ overexposure to representations of places and experiences, and Smith and Richards (2013) suggest that tourists have always been over-directed in their experience of cultural tourism. However, going beyond the script can be challenging. Firstly, there may be no access to certain ethnic communities without a tour or guide (in slums and townships it is certainly recommended and most guidebooks advise against wandering into ‘ghettos’). Safety and security play a major role (even if it is more perceived than real). It is also true that tourists are selective in their choices, often as a result of media representations, advice from guidebooks or tour guides and TripAdvisor and other social media reviews. For example, Ruether (2013) notes that tourists in France and Spain enjoy Gypsy performances but would never visit a Roma neighbourhood. The cultural or artistic is clearly privileged over the social. This is no different to those indigenous tourists in Australia who happily enjoy Aboriginal art trails but who would be dismayed to see an Aboriginal person living in squalor as an alcoholic.

The ‘Touristification’ of LGBT Space

The literature about lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) tourism has proliferated exponentially in the past few years. This book does not attempt to provide a comprehensive analysis of the whole spectrum of LGBT tourism, just focuses on those areas of cities which have commonly become known as ‘gay quarters’ or similar. Events are not a main focus either, as these are usually not confined to one space and have more temporal limits (i.e. most occur only once a year). Their importance is recognised, however. For example, Waitt and Markwell (2006) claim that when gays gather for gay events, they feel that they are a majority, which is not the way they feel in everyday life. LGBT minorities do not have a physical or geographical homeland that authenticates group identity (Blichfeldt et al., 2013), so quarters of cities may develop which provide them with a safe space in which to be themselves with less fear of prejudice from the wider society. Pritchard et al. (2000) argue that gay spaces (in opposition to ‘heteronormal space’) provide a sense of freedom as well as community. Blichfeldt et al. (2013: 473) describe gay spaces as ‘first and foremost, places that are “enacted” and “used” by gays – both at home and when on holiday’ in which ‘gays can be part of a community; be open about their sexuality; be with people like themselves and feel safe from prejudices and discrimination’ (Blichfeldt et al., 2013: 474). Pritchard et al. (1998: 274) suggested that gay spaces not only enable the display of behaviour and affection, ‘they are sites of cultural resistance with enormous symbolic meaning, providing cultural and emotional support for a political movement comprised of an increasingly diverse and geographically scattered community’.

However, Howe (2001) states that gays are often seen as just another attraction of a city, which straight people can gaze at in the distance. Rather than finding a sanctuary from heteronormativity, gay visitors may feel that they are reduced to a tourist attraction that straight people gaze upon in much the same way that they gaze at exotic animals in a zoo (Blichfeldt et al., 2013). For this reason, Visser (2007) asserts that gay space is not essential to the creation of gay identities as some gay people do not feel a need (or wish) to frequent gay spaces or places in order to feel different or gazed upon differently.

According to Florida (2002) who developed a ‘Gay Index’ for cities, there are close connections between economic development and business growth, and high numbers of gay residents. The strength of the so-called ‘pink pound’ has been discussed by many researchers, including in a tourism context. Hughes (2002) discussed how several market research studies highlighted higher travel propens...